


When Love Arrives

by mmmh_hot_sauce



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: College, Declarations Of Love, Drama, Drama & Romance, Episode: s04e19 New Moon Rising, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, First Time, Lesbian, Lesbian Sex, Love, Love Confessions, POV First Person, Romance, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-12
Updated: 2019-11-13
Packaged: 2021-01-29 16:44:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21413392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mmmh_hot_sauce/pseuds/mmmh_hot_sauce
Summary: Tara's thought's from 'New Moon Rising' when Oz shows up. Rated pg13 - nc17
Relationships: Tara Maclay/Willow Rosenberg
Kudos: 29





	1. Cherry blossoms and Rain

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sequel to 'Blackouts and Breakthroughs' ... it'll be broken up into three parts.

To think, the day started out the way it did. That only this morning, in the early hours of dawn, I was listening to the pounding of my heart. Convinced it was trying to break out of its mandatory jail cell known as my ribs. I couldn’t help but think of hummingbirds and how they can flap their wings 80 times in a second. And even though that’s fast, should someone ever take a stethoscope to my chest to listen to my heart beat whenever I lay my eyes on her, it would not compare. I swear; I could stare at her all day like a Caravaggio painting. She’s just beautiful. Especially now, the way she was sleeping in my bed, face nestled into the crook of my neck, her breath tickling my skin while her bed tossed hair cascaded over my chin. I couldn’t help but to inhale deeply, the smell of her shampoo tantalizing; assaulting all of my senses as I relished in her scent. Cherry blossoms and rain after a thunderstorm. Uniquely her. 

The day was supposed to be magical, just like all the days leading up to it have been. How could it not, when I got to spend the early morning hours just watching her sleep peacefully, a serene smile etched at the corner of her lips. Or when I felt her hand trail its way up my naked torso as she slowly stirred from her slumber. Watching her, eyes still closed, as her hand came to rest above my heart for a few beats before continuing on its journey, sneakily inching over to cup my breast. 

To think after this morning’s antics; wandering hands, feverish kisses and a cold shower followed up by a leisurely walk through the campus quad discussing the perks of adopting a kitten together would lead me here. To this very moment. Sitting rigid on a bar stool, confusion written all over my face as I stare in utter horror at the petite figure standing motionless by the front door. I’m not sure how many times I blinked my eyes but it seemed with every flick of my eyelids, the image before me got stronger, brighter, and tangible. 

I stood transfix, muscles twitching along my eyebrows as I try to piece together in my brain what I already know in my heart. It felt like hours flew by before she finally said his name. A strangled cry. “Oz”. It’s then that my brain and my heart sync together as I repeat the name out load. I catch her eye, holding her gaze briefly before dropping my head; my fingers have suddenly become very interesting. 

Out of the corner of my eye, I look at the man standing sheepishly at the door and then to the woman who’s been steadily stealing my heart. There’s a look on her face that I can’t decipher. Confusion, trepidation … Longing, probably. Voices started sounding all around me, blending together but all I could hear was my throat tightening as saliva strained to pass down my esophagus with a struggled gulp

I can’t take my eyes off of her. There’s this spark in her eye I’m not sure I’ve ever seen before. I feel my heart slowing and speeding up all at the same time. My breath is coming in silent raged waves now, just short of hyperventilation. I’m broken out of my muted trance when a blur of motion crosses in front of me. It’s him, coming to stand by my goddess, my savior, my everything; asking to see her later.

His voice, the sound of dark brown velvet, destroys me as he calls out her name. Adoration clearly evident in his voice, even more so in his eyes. I can’t help but drop my head again, the tension between them palpable. The room feels like it’s closing in on me all the while rotating on its axes, spinning madly. I feel queasy as a sense of light headedness over takes me; I’m finding it difficult to breath. The air has become stale, stagnant, and seemingly too thick to swallow. I’m suffocating on my own thoughts. My brain and my heart both screaming at me now to run. To get as far away as possible. The inevitable is coming and you don’t want to be around for it. 

Through curtained hair, I watch what feels like a well-choreographed dance as Oz backs away from Willow and Buffy steps forward, her voice gentle as she comforts her best friend. Everything in me is still screaming to go, to get out, that I’ve made a huge mistake. Through restricted vocals, I choke out that I have to leave, that I’m late for study group. I feel her eyes scrutinizing me; she knows that I’m lying. She has my schedule memorized better than I do, having embedded it into that beautiful brain of hers. She steps forward towards me, saying my name placidly. I see her reach out her hands instinctively to cusp mine, trying to stop me from leaving but I pull back; her touch feels like a hot iron, it burns my skin. I stutter feebly, the words sticking to my tongue as I tell her that she needs to be with her friends. It breaks my heart further but I walk away from her, a demure “wait” chasing after me as I close the door on my way out of the apartment. 

***

The long walk back to campus was torturous. Thoughts swiveled through my mind, berating me for falling for a straight woman. For falling for a straight woman who has a Bermuda triangle smile, sucking me in until I’m lost in her beauty. My own internal voice switches to my father’s. His cold callouses voice prominent, furthering the berating. I hear him clearly, disgusted, patronizing me for being so foolish, to think anyone could possibly love me. My body grows cold, an uncomfortable numbness setting in as I enter my dark, desolate room, my eyes landing on the unkempt bed we shared just a few hours ago. 

For hours I sat alone in my room, knees curled to my chest as I laid in a fetal position on my bed. I stared at the clock on the night stand, my eyes never wavering as I watched the glowing red numbers continuously roll over, ticking away, and letting me know that I’ve missed both of my evening classes. In the silence of my room, I pondered over the recent events and what it means for me. For Willow. For us. 

If I could rewrite this day I would, but I can’t, so we’re here; in this concrete graveyard approaching the afterlife of our newly flourishing relationship. Because her heart speaks Antigone and I can’t be her Sophocles. My thoughts continue to race like this well into the night, they flow through my mind at a rapid pace, but they always end the same. I keep coming back to the same resolution. That Willow needs to do what makes her happy … even if that mean’s leaving. 

The shuttering sigh that ransacks my body causes a new wave of tears to emerge. I let them flow freely down my cheek, dampening my pillow as I steady myself for what I know I need to do. Screwing my eyelids tightly shut, I conjure a picture of Willow in my mind, her radiant smile glowing like a neon sign. The image causes more tears to billow as the corners of my lips twitch. Tomorrow, I tell myself. Tomorrow I’ll tell her she needs to do what’s best for her … even if it kills me. 

***

My alarm sounded two hours ago, but I can’t phantom getting out of bed, the ceiling has become too enticing. The cracks and chipped pieces of paint calling to me, showing me what my heart must look like. It wasn’t until rays of sunlight seeped through the curtains, reaching my bed and blinding me, that I forced myself to get up. To get moving. To face the inevitable.

Somberly, I put on clothing. A blue tie-dye number that’s been hanging off the back of my chair for a few days now after an impromptu make out session with Willow lead to heavy petting. I barely register that my outfits dark, mismatched and wrinkled. The gloomy ensemble matching my mood. I don’t have time to consider my appearance, seeing Willow has pushed its way to the forefront of my mind. Steadying my nerves as best as possible, I walk out of my room, my fingers trembling as I lock the door behind me. 

Procrastination took over as soon as my shoe touched grass. What usually took five minutes, felt like thirty as I shuffled my feet to my final destination, a two inch thick piece of wood separating me from my dream woman. My never to touch again … to kiss again … to have again, woman. I close my eyes, taking in a deep lungful of air to try and calm the anxiety running through my veins, my fist rising to knock on the door.

My well-rehearsed speech disintegrates almost instantly, my mouth immediately going dry as the door swung open to reveal him. I can’t help but notice that his shirt is just as wrinkled as mine. I look at him in shock, then briefly to the slightly rumpled comforter on the bed, and then back to him. Taking him in, absorbing his features. Oz. Ruggedly handsome in an unconventional way. I try to apologize but my stutters back, worse than ever. I tell him I’ll come back later but he keeps on insisting for me to stick around, that Willow is just down the hall in the bathroom. He tries to engage in conversation but I’m doing everything to hold back tears, to not let him see how distraught I am by his presence. At his final remark, “You sure you don't wanna come in?” I shake my head no vigorously to keep from speaking through quivering lips, my throat so constricted I doubt any sound would have come out anyways. 

Hastily I retreat, fleeing down the hall towards the sanctity of my own bedroom, new tears trailing down my cheeks. What had previously taken thirty minutes now felt like thirty seconds, as I enter my room out of breath, my hands instantly coming up to rub my red swollen eyes. Leaning back against the sturdy lumber, I let my head fall backward, the base of my skull connecting with the door. I repeatedly tap my head against the door while I chastise myself, new feelings and unwanted imagery engulfing my mind. 

After minutes of self-belittlement, I pull my body from the door and cross to my bed, resuming the position from earlier. I hone in on the time on the clock, just past nine. I debate going to my classes but think better of it. My mind was too preoccupied to learn and my blood red eyes from the never ending streams of tears running down my cheeks were too prominent to hide. Pulling a pillow to my chest as my body quaked with silent sobs, I inhale deeply. The smell of Cherry blossoms and rain assault my sense all over again, creating a new wave of tears.


	2. Deja-vu

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating is somewhere between R and NC17

I’m not sure how long I had lain like this. My face buried in the pillow as I hugged it forcefully to my chest, savoring the scent that I’m positive I’ll never smell again. At some point from when I first grabbed the pillow till now my tears had stopped, replaced by a throbbing headache. The pounding so loud that I nearly mistook it for the knocking on my door. The idea of ignoring whoever was on the other side seemed tempting but my heart was tugging me towards the door, telling me that I needed to answer it. Gradually, I make my way across the room, turning the knob with nimble fingers only to have the breath knocked out of me. 

Over the past ten weeks, I’ve never gotten tired of seeing this sight. Her, in all of her radiance; standing on the other side of the threshold, her hair illuminated by the florescent lights, creating a halo on the crown of her red tresses. Just the presence of her sends my heart a flutter; it’s playing hopscotch inside of my chest. But it’s soon replaced; a new sense of dread takes over as I see her crestfallen features, my heart no longer fluttering as it sinks rapidly into the pit of my stomach. I’m sure I’m about to hear the four worst words in the English language. We need to talk. I’m positive that this will be the last time she’ll come to my room. That this will be the last time I see her. The last time her heart belongs to me. 

Her voice, soft and timid breaks my revere. I mimic her hushed greeting, my own voice just as weak as I say “Hi”. Words seem to have eluded me; instead I wave her inside of my room, wordlessly inviting her in. Something I haven’t had to do in a long time. She takes a few steps before turning to speak to me, telling me she’s not staying long due to class. I once again mimic her, letting her know that I have class too through a harsh stutter. How I hate when my nerves get the better of me.

Before the words have completely left my mouth, she’s talking again, her own nervousness matching mine as she rings her hands together. She tries to reassure me about this morning, her gentle soul trying to find a compassionate way to describe the event. No doubt to let me down gently. The words though are too hard to hear so I cut her off. I try to steal my nerves as I let her know what has been plaguing me all along. That if Oz was to ever come back, she would leave.

Again, compassionate, gentle, reassuring, she tells me they were just talking. “Nothing happened.” Those words, they elect a small spark inside of me, a glimmer of hope. The briefest of smiles graces my lips as I look into her sparkling emerald green eyes. “Really?” escapes my mouth before I have the proper time to digest her words. Again, a hopeful smile crosses my lips as she nods her head. But it soon falters as she adds a clause; that their conversation was intense. Jealousy seeps through me at her declaration. She once again reiterates that they were only talking, no doubt to put my mind at ease. But the fact that she mentions Oz and her have a lot to talk about makes me worry even more. 

I struggle for a moment. Not entirely sure what to say in regards to her statement. I close my eyes momentarily to focus on the speech I had planned to say to her earlier, on the words that need to be shed. Prying my eyelids open, I look into her glistening green eyes and inform her that we will always be friends, no matter the outcome. I wasn’t prepared for the intensity of her rebuttal. “Of course we will always be friends!”

I falter for a moment as I look at her downturned eyebrows, her expression one of befuddlement. It kills me to see her like this, so distraught. I try to make it easier for her, to make the breakup smoother. “I know what Oz means to you.” I’m thinking for the next words to say but I’m left crestfallen as I watch her face crumble even further, unshed tears billowing in her eyes. I want to run to her, to sweep her up in a hug that I’ll never let go of. Instead I stand rooted to this spot, just watching her fall apart.

“How can you, when I’m not even sure?” This catches me off guard. How can someone who color codes their entire life not know what they want. I cautiously take a step towards her as she continues to ramble. Her words inciting in me another spark of hope. “I changed, and … then we-“there’s a quiver in her voice that has not gone undetected.

I feel the word leaving my mouth more than I hear it. “What?” The word so softly spoken I’m not sure she even registered what I said. But her eyes start watering again, tears dripping from the corner of her eyes to roll agonizingly slow down her red flushed cheeks. Her ramble is more coherent this time, more so then it has ever been. Through a pause in her babble I watch her sigh heavily before stepping closer to me, tenderly gripping my hands. I want to take a step back to give her space but my shoes feel like they have been filled with lead all-the-while my head feels like it’s full of helium; especially when she says that I’m a big part of her life getting better. 

Once again my throat feels constricted as I struggle to swallow. She’s so close, I can smell her shampoo. Cherry blossoms and rain. Her voice is quivering so badly now, her emotions lying bare as she admits to me her fears. I don’t know where to look, I keep adverting my attention to objects around the room. But the sight of her crying, the tears free flowing now down her face keeps bringing me back to her. Always to her. 

“I wanna know, but I don’t.” Her words, so meek, so fragile penetrate my heart. I can’t help but to give her a sympathetic look as I watch her breakdown further. It’s destroying me from the inside out to watch her fall apart. Instinctively, I reach a hand up to brush away her tears, her skin feels so smooth under my caress that I savor it, etching it to memory. The sadness ebbing out of her is almost overwhelming, tingling my fingertips. I feel numb, overwhelmed by grief. I can’t live if she’s not happy … and I can’t live if she cries. I just look at her and know what needs to be done. “Do what makes you ... h-h-happy.” But I can live without her if it makes her smile. 

I never see her cross the distance between us, only feel her arms embracing me, holding me tight as tears cascade down onto my shirt; dampening the fabric. She buries her face in the crook of my neck, her breath tickling my flesh. It feels like deja-vu. My arms come up to wrap around her back halfheartedly, stroking her silky tresses. The feeling of her body pressed against mine, the smell of her hair under my nose, it’s all almost too unbearable. It feels like my heart is breaking in half; that poisoned butterflies are taking their last flutters in the pit of my stomach.

Before I can pull back, to disentangle myself from my own personal hell, I feel her lips softly press against my throat. My body stiffens as her feather light touches continue. Bit by bit, I feel her lips travel upwards to my ear, her hot breath unconsciously making my body tremble. My eyes flutter shut when she gently sucks on the bulb of my ear. A war is now raging inside of me, my brain telling me to pull back but at the same time my heart is screaming to relish the moment … to pull her tighter. 

I do just that. One hand coming up to nestle in her copper mane while the other slinks lower; gripping her waist. She’s now on my jaw, having abandoned the tender flesh of my ear. Her kisses are chaste, seemingly nonexistent as her lips glide along my skin, never stopping long enough in any one place. After an agonizingly slow show of affection, she finally reaches the corner of my mouth, her lips hesitating there. Courageously, I shift my head just slightly, brushing my lips daintily over hers. 

It was all that it took, that simple gesture. Her lips were now firmly planted on mine, hungrily devouring as her hands positioned themselves on either side of my face. Instinctively, in a well memorized dance, I open my mouth to her. The warm, supple muscle tasting me fully as it glided past my teeth. The feeling of her tongue slipping inside of my mouth is like heaven. Her kiss is so distracting that I never even felt her pushing me backwards until I connected soundly with the closed door. 

Almost instantly, she is pressed flush against my body, her lithe thigh pushing my legs apart. I know I should end this before it gets too out of hand but the feeling of her all over me is too overwhelming. I pull her tighter, rejoicing in the feeling of her muscular thigh pressed firmly against me, pushing upwards, eliciting a familiar feeling. Her hands leave my face only to reposition themselves seconds later at my hips. Her fingers needing my flesh as she rocks into me, her hips moving like a piston, slow at first but gradually gaining speed. Her wanton need is becoming evident. I feel the heat radiating out of her skirt, her wetness soaking the cotton of my pants. All rational thoughts have left my mind, leaving me a euphoric mess. 

I move my hand that’s been cupping her waist to her stomach, deftly lifting the fabric of her shirt. Her skin feels hot to the touch, igniting a new passion inside of me. Nimbly, I feel myself pulling on the buttons of her sweater, sliding the material over her shoulders until it cascades to the floor, forgotten. As she continues to rock, dry humping my leg, I glide my hand under her shirt and up her torso to her bra clad chest, squeezing the delectable flesh. I feel her chest heave as her nipple hardens under my caress. I want more of her. To feel more of her. I roughly push her bra up, feeling the soft tissue rest against the palm of my hand. 

The moan that escapes her lips send shivers down my spine. I keep up my ministrations, massaging her breast as she rocks into me feverishly, my own hips mirroring hers. We stayed like that for what felt like a life time, just grinding into each other, our bodies so flushed that they were practically merging together. I start to feel her tense up; her hips are moving faster as her kisses start to slow down. She’s no longer claiming my mouth. Her lips are now desperately trying to make contact; her hot breath basking over my skin as her teeth scraped over my top lip at irregular intervals. I feel her lips barely grazing mine as her jaw spasms, her breath husky as it came out in short, jagged gasps 

I smell her release before I feel it wash over me, the muscles in her thigh tightening as she is engulfed in euphoric bliss. Her lithe body continues to tremble against mine for several seconds as her leg involuntarily twitches from her powerful release. The feeling is agonizingly beautiful. Her face is agonizingly beautiful. Our lips are still millimeters apart; I feel her breathing heavily, her chest heaving up and down with every inhalation. As the sound of her harsh panting returns to normal, I once again feel her lips crashing into mine. Her hands coming up to grip my hair as her hips once again started bucking into mine. 

We’ve done this before, having reached this level in our relationship a few weeks back, heavy petting and dry humping. It never passed that though; our relationship still too new, still flourishing, mixed with our own trepidation to take it further. But this time her movements are different, frenzied, like she’s saying goodbye through her body. Regretfully I push her back, our lips the last to separate as I hold her waist at arm’s length away from me. She takes several small stumbling steps backwards, a mixture of embarrassment, rejection, and guilt etching her features as she processes what just happened. I scan her heavily dilated eyes; I’m not quite sure what I’m looking for, but I see the wheels behind her colorful eyes turning. 

“We’re late for class.” It’s all she says to me as she surges forward, reaching for the doorknob. I numbly move away from the door so she can open it and wordlessly watch her go. I don’t think I’m quite ready to say goodbye. I want to call out to her, to stop her from fleeing, but I don’t trust my voice. Instead I retrieve her discarded sweater from off of the floor, holding it close to my chest as I inhale the scent that she’s patented. An aroma I want to relish in for the rest of my life. A sense of irony washes over me as I cradle her sweater; I’m just now realizing I’m in love with her. I mirthlessly chuckle to myself as I think how tragic that is; she more than likely won’t be around to know it.

***

I arrived late to my lecture on Greek Mythology. The class had been underway for almost fifteen minutes before I was able to pull myself from my dorm room. Now sitting in the back row, one hour into a three hour class, I’ve realized that it was pointless for me to have even shown up. I spent the whole time so far clutching Willow’s sweater, fingering the embroidered flowers adorning the front. I can’t help but to reminisce about when we first meet and how it felt as though Pterodactyls were flapping their wings against the corridors of my stomach. I couldn’t help but to think about yesterday morning and how I listened to the rhythmic pattern of her heart and smiled. I was so enraptured by the redheaded goddess that has consumed my life for the past two and a half months that I was completely ignoring the actual goddess’s on the slideshow in front of me. 

The notion that we had an exam next week on the subject at hand never even fazed me. I was too occupied on the sweater I was wearing. Willow’s sweater. I tried jotting down notes but everything keeps coming back to Willow. It only took a few minutes before I realized my notebook was starting to fill up with all the things my mouth couldn’t say. Now, consciously aware of what I’m doing, I try to write faster as more thoughts start whirling through my mind like a tornado. The path is set on destruction and my pen is surely to run out of ink. 

The pages are rapidly filling. It’s turning into a long drawn out letter full of run on sentences and haphazard thoughts. Quickly switching from reason’s she should stay with me to reasons she should go back to Oz; to the person I’m sure will make her happy. I’m so engrossed in my writing that I didn’t notice that the class has finished. It isn’t until the door at the top of the staircase slams shut that I look up from my notebook. I’m the only person left in the room excluding the professor staring pointedly at me from the front of the class, his hands resting on his hips. 

I give him a sheepish smile as I gather my belongings, stacking my notebook on top of my textbook. I pull the books close to my body, clutching them to my chest like makeshift armor as I hurry from the lecture hall. As I pass through the threshold into the now vacant hall, all I can think about is how hearts and stop signs are fraternal twins, lost in open roads and hollow chests. 

***

It isn’t until I hear her name that I’m brought out of my reverie. Turning, I see him there, by the bulletin board that’s filled with upcoming events and meetings. He’s looking at me with this quizzical look on his face that I can’t quite decipher. Before I have a chance to pinpoint his emotion, he’s walking towards me, exclaiming that he thought he heard Willow.

A sense of dread washes over me as I take a glance at his hands. There, taunting me in maroon and yellow was a UC SunnyDale folder, no doubt filled with enrollment papers along with a booklet on available courses. I can’t help but clutch my books tighter to my chest as I ask him if he’s coming back to school. I watch as he slightly shrugs his shoulders and nonchalantly responds about being oddly motivated. I am once again consumed by jealousy.

As I continue to talk, unenthusiastically telling him how great his return to school will be for him and Willow, I notice his behavior changing slightly, his eyebrows knitting together. He starts to sniff the air lightly around me, confusion once again washing over his features as his eyes penetrate into mine. Nervous by his attentive stare, I continue to stutter over my words until he interrupts me. 

“Is that her sweater?” I tilt my head down, silently pleading for this encounter to end. The words are still tumbling out of my mouth even though they don’t sound sincere. He must sense my hesitancy as he steps closer, his eyebrows still furrowed together as he tells me that I smell like her. That Willow’s scent is all over me. I can’t help but to think about what transpired between us merely three hours ago in my dorm room, my thigh pressing firmly against her molten hot center. 

Through my defeated posture, I occasionally flick my eyes up to look at him, noticing that he’s getting angry due to my lack of response. “I can't. I-I can't talk about this” I try to plead with him as I turn to walk away only to feel his hand tightly grab my arm, squeezing it firmly. 

His voice is angrier now, demanding. “But there's something to talk about?” I can’t contain the gasp that escapes my mouth as I stare at him through frightened eyes. His questions are hitting home on a subject I don’t have the right to disclose. I try to plead with him again, telling him I need to go but he’s not having it. His tone is becoming accusatory, his words laced with an undertone of malice. 

I start to walk away from him once more, but he blocks my path, grabbing me this time with both of his hands; his fingers fastening around my biceps. I begin to panic as he squeezes my arms, shaking me as he screams, requesting an answer I can’t give him. It seems that as quickly as he grabbed a hold of me he lets go, panting heavily. Looking down at his hands, I watch petrified as he slowly begins to grow fur and claws. It’s only when his gruff voice breaks me out of my trance, telling me to run, do I actually start to comprehend the severity of the situation.

I have maybe a ten second head start before I hear the sounds of claws scrapping against linoleum. Dropping my books, I run as fast as I can to the nearest classroom. As soon as I enter the lecture hall, Oz in full werewolf form is two steps behind me. Sprinting to the staircase, I dash to the top level, b-lining for the secondary exit. I don’t think my heart has ever raced this fast in my life; it seems as if it is trying to chisel its way out of my chest. 

Gripping the doorknob, I’m instantly met with resistance. Panic stricken, I continue an attempt to get the door open, all the while thoughts of Willow flash before my eye. Regret immediately overwhelms me as I think of how I should have confessed my love to her sooner. How I should have kissed her sooner. How I should have fully accepted her advances earlier. Regret is pumping through my veins as I sprint back down the staircase with the werewolf hot on my heels. 

The inevitable fear of death takes hold of me as I back myself into the corner, a plastic chair my only weapon. Desperately, I throw the piece of furniture at him; shocked when I see Oz’s body crumble to the ground. It’s only when I stand there panting, my heart and thoughts returning to a normal pace, do I realize that there is a tranquilizer dart sticking out of the werewolf’s back. 

Everything seems to be moving in slow motion now as the adrenalin rush dissipates. Riley and several of his Initiative colleagues are everywhere seemingly out of nowhere, swarming the werewolf’s motionless body. I ask what’s going on but I get a dismissive answer. I watch helplessly as they start to put Oz into a black body bag. I try to tell Riley that the werewolf is a person but my stutter hinders me, allowing for one of the soldiers to interrupt and inevitably brush off my statement. I try one more feeble attempt at telling them that the monster is Oz however all I get out is a meek “but” before they’re out the door. A ‘no’ escaping my lips as the door swings shut behind them.


	3. Work of Art

Five hours ago. I found Willow in the library, five hours ago. I found her hovering over a textbook, staring at it absently, her concentration on everything but studying. Five hours since I told her about the Initiative taking Oz. Five hours since she ran off to help him. 

For 300 minutes I’ve been sitting here, in my darkened dorm room, staring out the window into the campus’ blacken abyss. I’m not quite sure when the blackout happened but the irony of the situation was not lost on me. I’m actually happy that the power went out. It matches my mood, to sit here in the dark; sulking, reminiscing, but mainly wallowing in a pit of despair. With my knees curled to my chest, I continue to ponder over the past 34 hours. My heart is torn into a million shards and it feels like my stomach is in my throat.

I think it’s better this way. It wasn’t healthy for me, pretending. Pretending she might love me. Thinking that when I looked into her eyes, I saw mine reflected back; a reciprocated love shining through. Thinking of the first time I kissed her and how she wanted it as much as I did. Now all I can think of is if this had all been a phase. The stereotypical college experience. The only ‘what if’ that had never crossed my mind … until now. My already sour mood takes a drastic turn for the worst as I try to shake off that notion. Willow is too sweet and caring to ever do something like that. 

The knock on my door startles me. It takes me a second to come back to myself before I am able to shake off the last of the revelations and go to the door. My heart almost stops when I see that it’s Willow. Goddess, she’s so gorgeous; her beauty enhanced by the lit candle she held. Her eyes, a sparkling hunter green in the light of the flame, encapsulated by eyelashes that look like violin strings playing symphonies every time she blinks. My heart clenches yet again. Another bolt of jealousy surges through me. He’s gonna love the way she shine’s, cause so do I. 

She gives me a muddled look when she looks past my maudlin face and sees that my room is dark; “What, no candles?” I shake my head no. How do I tell her that I wanted to sit alone in the dark? That the darkness has become a security blanket and I want nothing more than for it to consume me. To swallow me whole so I never have to feel this way again. How do I tell her that the happiest moment of my life took place during a blackout as, ironically, the worst moment of my life is about to? 

“Well I brought one. It’s extra flamey.” I feel the corners of my lips twitch; I love when she makes up words. It’s one of so many wonderfully endearing things I love about her. This notion crushes me further. I won’t be around anymore to relish in her quirky behaviors. I must’ve been quite for too long as she doesn’t ask for an invite this time, merely hands over her candle and steps forward, breaching the threshold. 

I step back to let her in. The warmth of the candle begins to seep into the palms of my hands. I hadn’t realized how numb I had gotten until I clutch the candle harder, realizing that this will be the last thing Willow ever gives me. I can’t help but to give a demure smile as I look down at the flickering candle now nestled between my palms. Chancing a look up, I notice her face is cloudy. I know what’s coming. I’ve been bracing for it for two days. Trying to think how I can tell her that it’s ok; that I’m not completely destroyed on the inside, that my heart hasn’t splintered into a million pieces, that she hasn’t hurt me … especially when I’m such a terrible liar. 

“Tara, I have to tell you …” Here it is. Here it comes, my greatest fear. I feel the rhythmic pounding of my heart again, this time much slower. Thudding … thudding … thudding. I’m pretty sure my hearts stopping. I can’t bear to hear her say it for some reason. I’ve known it was coming all along; but to hear her say it out loud would make this seemingly never-ending nightmare true. I thought I was prepared but now I don’t remember all the things I wrote down to say. My stutter comes out once more. I tell her that I understand. I want her to know that it’s okay and that she needs to be with the one that she loves.

I see a smile bloom across her face, her pearly whites beaming back at me through the dim light of the candle. It’s overwhelmingly evident; she’s elated to be with him again. “I am.” There it was. She wants to be with Oz and not me and I have to accept that. I’ve spent all evening accepting that. I’m on my third round of mental self-loathing when her words finally sink in. My eyebrows spike upwards as my eyes connect with hers. I can’t help but to stand there stock-still, bewildered as I take in her expressive features, her smile never wavering.

My voice constricts while my brain struggles to keep up, disbelief at the forefront of my mind. All I can manage to choke out is “You mean …” I don’t have to wait long for a response. She repeats my words but with certainty. A shy smile creeps across her lips as she asks me if what she’s implying is okay. The air is knocked out of me as I exhale rapidly, my head nodding up and down with vigor. Breathlessly I respond, letting her know I am more than okay with being with her.   
She steps towards me, the limited distance between us diminishing. I watch her, enraptured by her beauty and the fact that she chose me. I find myself concentrating on the way her lips move, fixated on the way she occasionally ran the tip of her tongue over her bottom lip, moistening it. Her lips are like a work of art … and God, do I want to tear them apart. The sound of her voice breaks though my fantasy. I shake myself free of my trance, catching the tail end of her babble. “... A-and I'm gonna make it up to you … starting right now”.

Willow’s eyes were glistening in the candlelight, her hair glowing copper as she stood there, patiently, waiting for my response. “Right now?” At my words, she smiles like an envelope does when it receives good news, her happiness is overwhelming. Instinctively, I lean forward and blow out the candle, but not before catching the lustful look in Willow’s eyes. 

The second the room was plunged into darkness, I felt Willow on me. Her hands glide through my hair, resting at the back of my skull where they grip a handful of my locks. Almost simultaneously, her mouth is on mine, her lips working against mine feverishly. I swear, when our lips touched, I could taste the next sixty years of my life. I’m so enraptured I want to reach for her, to pull her in tighter, to scratch our future into her back, but I am still holding the candle clutched between my fingers. Willow must have sensed my predicament as she takes a step back. Before I can say anything, she’s pulling the candle from my grip, carelessly dropping it to the floor beside us.

I don’t know what made contact first, the candle hitting the ground or Willow’s lips back onto my flesh. Her fingers are once again threading through my hair as she caresses my jaw with butterfly kisses. Her touches are gentle, not frenziedly like they previously were. My eyes flutter shut as she showers my face in tender kisses, her lips seemingly everywhere at once. My hands come up to encircle her waist, pulling her into me, a guttural moan leaving my throat at the contact. 

My moan seems to have ignited something inside Willow. Suddenly, her mouth is back on me then, her lips parting mine as her tongue skitters across my teeth. Parting my own lips, allowing her greater access, I shiver as her tongue plunges into my mouth, swirling. I can’t help but to moan again into her kiss as a shiver runs up my spine. 

Her hand’s move from out of my hair to stroke the small patch of exposed skin between my shirt hem and the waistband of my pants. She glides one of her hands under my shirt, briefly rubbing my stomach before trailing to my breast, slinking under my satin bra. Another moan echo’s from my lips as she lovingly squeezes my breast. As she devotedly massages my chest, her other hand travels to my khakis, fumbling with the drawstring. 

Any sense of control I have left is dissipating fast as my hands fly to the zipper of her pants, desperately wanting to feel her flesh against mine. Unexpectantly, she pulls my hands away from the zipper of her jeans and guides me to the edge of the bed, sitting me down without ever breaking our kiss. As she continues peppering my face in tantalizingly kisses, I feel her hand move off of my breast so it can grip the hem of my shirt. She tugs upwards slightly, silently asking permission to remove the garment. 

I kiss her for several more seconds, my teeth capturing her bottom lip; pulling on the meaty flesh. Releasing her lip, I straighten up as I reach down, grabbing a hold of my own shirt and pull it over my head. Haphazardly, I throw the shirt across the room, watching as Willow openly gawks at my heaving chest. A smile erupts across my face as I take in the expression on her face, her eyes dilating further as I reach for the clasp of my bra, slowly pulling it off.

As Willow stands there mesmerized, I bravely reach for her shirt, bunching the purple garment up as I try to disrobe her. Taking a step back, removing herself from between my parted legs, Willow reaches for her own shirt, pulling it over her head, quickly followed by her white sports bra. Even though I’ve seen her bare chest several times now, the sight of her never ceases to take my breath away. Her peaches and cream skin with smatterings of freckles over her shoulder; the pink areolas and the pebble like nipples standing so hard. I’m so enraptured in her chest that I almost miss her hands unfastening her jeans … almost. 

Now it’s my turn to be transfixed. I watch as she pulls the denim down her legs, gingerly stepping out of the leg holes. As she straighten ups, I detect a small blush creeping across her cheeks as she nervously rings her hands together in front of her purple cotton thong. I take in her appearance, amazed at the beautiful goddess standing before me. Gulping anxiously, I reach out a hand for her to take, pulling her back between my legs once she does so. 

As she nestles herself between my thighs, I grip her hand tighter as I use my free hand to leisurely stroke her leg. My fingertips softly, almost evanescently, graze up and down over her silky smooth thigh in a gentle caress. I feel her shiver under my touch, her body responding positively to my ministrations. Tilting my head up, I stare into her green eyes as she looks down at me, her torso slowly leaning down to once again capture my lips. 

This time, the kiss is slow and sensual as I feel her trying to convey her true feelings. We’re still kissing, the pace never quickening as her mouth lovingly brushing against mine passionately. Untangling our still conjoined hands, she places them on my shoulder, pushing me backwards onto the bed. As my back bounces against the mattress, I feel her hands clutching my hips, urging me to crawl backwards to the head of the bed. 

Moments later, the bed creaks as she climbs onto it herself. Hovering over me, inserting herself between my thighs; her knees spread my legs further apart as our hips press tightly together. I can feel the heat and moisture radiating off of her, just as I’m sure she can feel mine. She starts to grind her center hard against me, while she nibbles on my neck, sucking her way down to my shoulder and biting hard. I dig my nails into Willow’s bare back, leaving red welts in their wake as she growls against my neck. 

She slowly works her way from my throat, migrating to my breasts for several blissful minutes, her talented tongue lavishing my nipples before trekking down to my stomach; licking lazy patterns and nipping at my skin as her fingers drew patterns over my hips and sides. The mattress shifts underneath me as Willow edges down the bed further, kissing the enflamed skin just above my damp blonde curls, her breathing making me shiver in anticipation. She grips the fastens of my pants, about to tug open the buttons before looking up at me, once again silently asking for permission.

Nodding my head, I give her a reassuring smile. She herself smiles as she goes back to tugging the buttons free from their confinement. As her fingers curl over the waistband of my pants, hooking into my underwear, she pulls down my clothing in one fell swoop, letting them drop to the floor in a crumbled heap. I watch her inhale deeply, her nostrils flaring out as her eyes flutter close. Starting at my ankles, she kisses her way up my thigh agonizingly slow, her tongue occasionally sneaking out to taste my skin. As she reached her goal, I feel her lips brush over the skin of my pubic bone, sucking gently.

Growing increasingly wetter, I moan out to her to stop teasing only to be pleasantly surprised as her tongue sneaks its way inside of me, making short stabbing motions between the lips of my sex. I instinctively raise my hips to meet Willow’s eager tongue and the slow, lazy circles being drawn around my clit. I can feel my own wetness against her chin with every movement of her head. She continues to slowly run her tongue down the lips of my sex, lapping at my juices. As her tongue continues its beautiful ministration, she slips two fingers inside of me, moving in and out slowly, provoking a gasp followed by a long and husky drawn out moan. 

Instinctively, I buck against her hand as it pumps inside of me, the walls of my sex beginning to contract around her fingers. Even as an orgasm starts to peek, her circular movements on my clit never cease, instead they speed up to match the motion of her hand. 

I moan out her name. Pleading for her not to stop. Begging for her to never stop. Flinging my hands to her head, I roughly grasp her hair, clutching it between my fingers as she picks up the pace again, my body bowing against the bed, every muscle in me tensing. My breathing is now coming in short gasps as I manage to moan out a string of profanity, my inhibition pushed to the backburner as I relish in her touch. Willow keeps her movements steady, driving me closer and closer to my peak. ”Fuck, Willow. Oh, god, yes!” I manage to scream out as an orgasm explodes through me, white lights emitting behind my closed eyelids. 

As I’m waning from the powerful orgasm, my death grip loosening on her hair, I feel her fingers start moving inside of me again, the pace slow at first but then gradually increasing. Almost instantly, my sex is contracting around her fingers once more, wrapping them in my hot, wet, tight channel. The orgasm washes over me just as intensely as the first one, my eyes rolling upwards into the back of my skull as my toes curl inwards. 

As soon as the muscles in my stomach stopped constricting, I reaching down to grab a hold of her wrist, stopping her still wiggling fingers. “No … no more, baby,” I gasp out, my breathing ragged as I urge her to move up next to me. Pulling her hand away, I let out a slight whimper at the sudden loss of contact, missing her intimate touch instantaneously. 

Several seconds pass before the bed once again shift under her weight as she stealthily crawls upwards, positioning her thighs on either side of my waist, straddling me. As soon as her dripping hot center rests against my skin do I realize she has taken off her thong, my eyes widening in pleasure at the new skin on skin contact. Bending down, she kisses me hard, leaving me speechless as I taste my own essence on her lips. Pulling back slightly, her hair falls forward to encase us in a personal cocoon. Basking in her beauty, I reach my left hand up to gently stroke her cheek, brushing my thumb over her jawline. ‘I love you, Willow.” 

She smiles down at me as she leans into my touch, her eyes shining with pure devotion as she pushes a stray strand of sweaty blonde hair behind my ear as she too confesses her love to me. My breath catches all over again as I stare smitten back into her eyes, her words reverberating in my head. I kiss her then, possessively, my tongue running across her lips. As we exchange saliva, my hands reach out to her waist, gliding them across her heated flesh. Pulling back from the kiss, I push Willow back slightly so I can arch up, locking onto one of her pert breasts; my teeth pinching down on the puckered, pebbled flesh. Sucking on the skin, I rotate my tongue in counter clockwise circles, leaving behind a wet swirly trail. Moving one of my hands, I trail it up Willow’s ribs before gripping her other breast firmly, making sure to pay attention to them both. 

Nipping at the tender flesh, I relish in the sight of several darken marks surrounding her breasts as I move up to her collarbone. Reaching one hand up, I tilt her head to the side, seizing her ear to bite on the tender flesh. I not only hear but feel the moan escape her lips, her hot breath dancing across my skin; driving me even wilder with need. As she continues to moan her pleasure, she begins to rock against me, our centers grinding together sensuously. I’m nearly lost in the sensation, my attention on her ear slowing down as I relish in the feel of her sex rubbing against mine.

Regaining my composure, I start sucking on her ear again as my other hand slinks off of her waist, sliding to the top of her pelvic bone. Dipping my hand down; the tip of my middle finger breaches her folds, slipping through her wet outer lips. She gasps at the new sensation, her breath hitching in her throat as she tilts her face skyward. Pushing my hand further between our interlocked bodies, I cup her sex, feeling her essence drip against the palm of my hand. 

I can’t contain the moan that escapes my lips at the feel of her. Removing my mouth from her ear, I search out her lips, devouring her hungrily. As she opens her mouth to allow my tongue entrance, I simultaneously enter her with one finger. I feel her body quiver over mine as she gets use to the new sensation. It takes only moments before she begins to rock against my hand, building up a steady pace. I continue to stroke her heated flesh, my finger pumping into her until I feel her dripping down onto my wrist. With the copious amount of wetness seeping over my hand, I insert another finger inside of her, filling her completely. 

She gasps at the added pressure, her mouth pulling away from mine as she breaths raggedly, her widen eyes staring pointedly into mine. Falling back to the mattress, I watch her mouth hang open slightly, panting hotly. With eyes closed, her face pointed skyward, she arches her back, her pelvis shifting to pull my fingers in deeper. A guttural moan erupts from her throat as my fingers penetrate her farther. 

She’s ridding me so fast now, her inner muscles contracting as her hips start thrusting against my hand harder. Moving my fingers, I push them against the little rough, spongy patch, massaging small circles over her G-spot. As she nears her orgasm, I can’t help but to think that I want her so wet that by the time she dries, rainbows form between her thighs. No sooner had the thought crossed my mind, I hear her calling out my name. 

She repeats my name, over and over again like a mantra as her body begins to shutter, her sex constricting around my fingers like a vice. As her orgasm rips through her, she falls forward, clutching at the sheet forcibly; bunching them up as her back bows in ecstasy. My name rips through her throat once more, loud, and forceful. As she rides out the rest of her orgasm, her body falls listlessly on top of me. 

“Mmm,” Was the only sound I could make out as her body shivered on top of me. Pulling my hand free, I rested it over her glistening back, stroking the sweaty flesh lightly. As we laid like that, my fingers absently drawing patterns in her flesh, her hot breath tickling my neck as she left gentle kisses across my throat, I chuckle, my chest heaving slightly.  
Pulling away from my throat, Willow asks me in a tired, satisfied tone, “What you laughing about, missy?” 

“You screamed my name so loud … so many times,” I said through a smirk. Perching up on an elbow, she looks down at me skeptically, her brows screwing together. “Was that a bad thing?” I look at her crestfallen feature and instantly kick myself for not explaining clearly. 

“No. Yes … but definitely no,” I replied reassuringly as I pull her back down to rest on my chest, out breast firmly pressing together. I didn’t have to see her face to know that it was contorted in confusion, her beautiful mind no doubt trying to piece together my answer. Putting her mind at ease, I further elaborated. “I’m pretty sure I'm gonna get a noise complaint from the RA tomorrow.” I giggled again at the reason why, a proud smile etching my lips as the sound of Willow screaming my name in ecstasy washes over me. Pivoting my arm, I roll Willow onto her back, pinning her hands above her head as I straddle her waist. “It’ll be totally worth it though.”

THE END


End file.
